


A lost paradise

by beatriceHB



Series: All that glitters [6]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatriceHB/pseuds/beatriceHB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flint and Billy get very uncivilized on their own secret island.</p><p>Mostly a shameless PWP, with heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lost paradise

“Would you trust anyone else to hold a blade against your throat?” I ask, as I begin to scrape away the coppery bristles of his beard.

“Not a man alive,” Flint says, holding still and obedient for me, his legs dangling over the clear, cold water beneath us.

I feel strangely nervous doing this. It’s almost too intimate, which is a bizarre thought to have about someone you’ve tasted every part of, sleep beside every night, and eat beside every morning. This is intimacy of a different order though; it’s like the closeness of family.

When I’m finished, I take a step back to inspect my work and discover a face I barely recognise. This man is younger than Flint, his mouth is softer and fuller, and his jaw is sharper. And when he looks back at me, his eyes are wide and uncertain.

“What is it?” he says, and I realise my mouth has fallen open.

He leans forward over the water to examine his reflection. “Oh,” he says, and then, “I haven’t seen this face for a very long time.”

“I’m looking at a stranger,” I say.

His face falls, “that’s close to the truth.”

We arrived on the island yesterday, after two days sailing. When Flint asked me to come away with him, I didn’t ask where or why until we were far out to sea. He said he wanted to show me something, ‘a secret place’ he said. Somewhere we could be alone together, and maybe hide out for a while if we needed to. From the moment we landed though, it was obvious that Flint had some other purpose here. Where my eyes looked in wonder at the beauty of it, his eyes swept the terrain with the thoroughness of an assayer, weighing up the value of a purse.

When we’d gone inland a little, he showed me the shelter he’d found there. It looked like a lair rather than a home - a dry and cool system of caves, cut deep into a wall of sheer black rock. A dragon might have lived in it once, sleeping curled up on its gold like they do in the stories. I laughed to see that even here he had managed to bring a book. Two in fact, stowed on a ledge next to his weapons. ‘I may be a pirate, but I’m not a barbarian’ he said. As usual, I couldn’t tell if he was poking fun at himself or being entirely serious.

We slept last night like two logs, barely moving. And in the morning we found this rocky cove, perfect for swimming and bathing. He wanted to take a walk as soon as he was clean, but I had in mind to shave him first. I always have my cutthroat to hand – you never know when you might need it – and I was curious to see how he would look. Now here I am, looking at someone else entirely. I reach out to touch the smooth skin, and he twitches away from me. I wonder if this is all more significant than I realised.

“How do you like it then?” he asks, and I can tell he’s nervous by the way his fingers twine into the hair at the back of his head.

“I like it very well,” I say, and I do.

He frowns pensively, “I suppose for a day or two it does no harm. Come on then.” And with that he jumps to his feet and pulls me up after him.

I think this island is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The sand is white gold and pillow soft, the interior is dotted with freshwater pools that make it steam like a bath house, and everywhere there are fruit trees making the air smell sweet. Flint pauses here and there as we walk, pulling out his spyglass, sketching different aspects, and jabbing sticks into the earth as if to test its firmness. Now and then he points out some landmark to me, and asks if I think I could find it again. I say yes, because I know that’s what he wants to hear. Eventually we emerge onto the north shore, and stop to rest, sitting beside each other on the hot sand. Flint seems less concerned with the lay of the land now, as if he’s found what he came here for. I take advantage of his stillness to sneak glances at his unfamiliar new face. 

“I can see you looking,” he says, staring straight ahead, “am I really so different?”

“How do you want me to answer that,” I say anxiously, “I can’t tell.”

His lips move silently, as though there are words on the tip of his tongue that he’s unwilling to speak. Finally he says, “I don’t know.”

He’s never looked so vulnerable as long as I’ve known him, and I’m glad the crew can’t see him like this. It’s clear that we’re dancing around something important, and I’ve learned from experience that it’s best to stay quiet in those moments, let him come to it in his own time. After a long pause he says “do you realise that you’ve never called me by my name?”

A few moments pass before I catch on to his meaning. I know his name of course, but I’ve never used it. I test it out in my head first, and then say “you mean James?” The word just hangs there in the air, not quite fitting. I decide to be honest, “feels weird saying it.”

There’s a bit of tension between us suddenly, and it’s clear that he’d hoped for a different response. But much as I’d love to have a name for him that’s just mine, he’ll never be James to me. I can tell from his studied blankness that there’s a mountain of hurt attached to the name, and history too. When I call him James, I feel like I’m wearing some other man’s clothes.

“I might just stick to Captain, if you can stand it. That’s always been my name for you, and I’m used to it now.”

He looks crestfallen then, and his whole body seems to withdraw from me. “I’m rather used to giving you orders too,” he says coldly, “so perhaps it’s fitting.” 

My stomach clenches like a fist, but I know it’s just the hurt making him so cold, so I reach out and gently pull his face around so he can look into my eyes.

“Don’t wish Captain Flint away, please,” I beg him, “maybe no civilized person could love him, but _I_ do.”

We walk hand in hand after that, all the way back to the cave, shooting fond glances at each other as we go. 

******

Later, we stretch out on our blankets in the mouth of the cave. The sun is fading, but we have lanterns to see by. There’s no sound besides the rustling of palm leaves and the distant roar of the sea. Flint is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow so that he can turn the pages of his book. I’m trying to read the one he brought for me, but I’m finding it near enough impossible to concentrate with him looking like he does. The lamplight is just catching the tip of his upturned nose, making him look almost pretty, and his hair keeps falling loose over his eyes. His shirt is unbuttoned, and my eyes keep following the line of muscle down his stomach all the way to where it disappears under his belt. 

“How are you getting on with that?” he says, without looking up.

“It’s a bit… hard going,” I say, not wanting to offend.

He sighs with the air of an indulgent teacher, “you are _such_ a child Billy Bones, how much have you read, two, three pages?”

“You’re distracting me,” I whine.

At that he slams his book shut, and pushes himself up onto all fours. 

“Oh, I haven’t even begun distracting you,” he says, weighing every word, his expression half stern and half flirtatious.

Moving closer, he swings a leg over my body and sits in my lap, forcing me onto my back. “Hold that up where you can see it” he says, putting the book back in my hands “and start reading, aloud.” I swallow, my throat suddenly seems impossibly dry. I try to angle the book towards the lamp so I can make out the words. He starts to pull roughly at the buttons of my trousers.

“How am I supposed to read with you doing that?” I croak. My pulse is quickening already, a fact which is almost certainly not lost on him.

“Because if you stop, I’ll stop.”

I groan. “Read,” he says, then his head sinks down and I feel the warmth of his breath against my inner thigh.

“Him the almighty power” I start, and feel his lips pulling gently at my skin. It sends a little lightening flash to the bottom of my spine.

“Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky”

He kisses me harder and I can feel his tongue making me slippery. My cock begins to swell and twitch.

“With hideous ruin and combustion, down”

Now all the feeling in my body is focused on his mouth. I shiver and glow wherever his lips touch me, my thighs, my hip bone, the base of my erection.

“To bottomless perdition, there to dwell”

And when his mouth closes around me, all hot and slick, the pleasure is so intense I feel like I could come right away. 

“Oh fucking Christ!”

I clench everything I can to prevent myself going off in his face. He sits up and bites his lip to hold back the laughter, then carefully takes the book out of my hands and places it down on the ledge beside us.

“I believe the next line is ‘In adamantine chains and penal fire’, not ‘oh fucking Christ,’ but perhaps you know better than Mr Milton.”

I try to think of something sharp to say in response, but before I can he leans over me again and his head sinks down. “I should have known you’d be like this tonight,” he says, with his lips brushing against the muscles of my chest, “you really need to learn some patience.” 

His tongue swirls wetly across my nipple, and he smiles teasingly up at me because he knows I’ll be all conflicted about it. I’m so sensitive there, and just one lick has made me stiffen and pop out. But at the same time it feels wrong to like it, sort of feminine, and wrong for him to want to do it. His tongue feels too good to stop though, so I let him keep on sucking and licking, first one nipple, then the other, until I’m in such a state I don’t care how wrong it is.

“Take these off for god’s sake” he says, tugging at my trousers, and I wriggle about until I’ve got free of them. And instead of waiting for him to spread my legs for me, I lift my knees and part them wide like some whore might do. He regards me with a mixture of delight and horror, like he’s ashamed of wanting this sluttish thing beneath him. It’s the same face he has when he’s pursuing a fat merchant ship and anticipating its quick surrender. My hand reaches for my cock, because I want him to see my need, and he watches me work myself up for him, until my back is arching and my breath comes in shuddering gasps.

“I want you.” he growls, with his eyes on my cock. He makes it sound like a threat.

“Take me then, if you must.”

He pulls off his trousers and peels off his shirt. He’s all glistening and damp in this sticky heat, and his erection falls thick and heavy into his hand. I watch him slick his fingers with oil, and then circle them around his cock, sweeping up and down his full length until every inch of it is shiny and wet. I’m so ready to take it, the anticipation is making me sweat. My hips tilt up off the ground in readiness and my mouth wants to suck on something so I suck on my own fingers.

With one slippery hand he finds my hole and strokes it, firmly and a bit roughly, feeling for resistance. The first stroke starts a little flood of pleasure deep inside me, and with his second and third going deeper each time, the pleasure builds and builds until I’m making a low keening sound through my teeth and my legs are shaking from want and need. 

“Beautiful boy” he says, like it’s some kind of insult, “look at the state you’re in. Have you no shame?” Where he’s concerned I don’t, and he knows it.

He moves closer so he’s right on top of me, as if he’s overpowered me, though I’ve put up absolutely no resistance. His muscled shoulders bear down on me, his hair falls all over his face, and his eyes go hooded like he’s drugged. I feel him pushing inside me, slowly, so I’m blissfully aware of every inch. He’s stretching me apart and filling me up, and shutting down every part of me except for the parts that he’s sliding inside, until his thick cock is everything and I’m nothing. My mind steams up so I can’t think for shit.

“You like that?”

I can’t even speak, I just wrap my legs around his body, pull him into me harder and force him to start really fucking me. He sets a slow, sensuous pace, and every thrust hits my sweet spot with the accuracy of a sniper. It gets to where I’ve got tears in my eyes from the intensity of it and my head goes light. I wonder if I’ve remembered to breathe.

“Come for me beautiful boy,” he whispers, right up close to my face, “show me how badly you need it.”

Then he goes at me ferociously, like he’s trying to batter down my defences. The force of it crushes my erection against his stomach, giving it a brutal stimulation that I can’t withstand for long. As he pounds me harder and faster, my whole body seems to twist up into a single point of white heat, and there’s nothing else in the whole world.

“I’m coming, I’m coming...” I hear the words in my head but I’m not sure if I speak them out loud.

He presses his lips onto mine and I force my tongue inside him as far as it’ll go. I end up moaning into his mouth as my cock pumps and spills out everywhere, soaking us both. At the peak of my climax I bite his lip so hard I can taste his blood, and I want him so much in that moment I could eat him whole.

When I open my eyes he’s staring at me all surprised, like I’ve done something miraculous, not just lay here and get fucked.

“You make me so happy,” he says, between shuddering breaths, “I think I do love you.” 

The last word ends in a gasp and a violent jolt, as his own pleasure claims him. Watching him come inside me, with his words ringing in my ears, I feel blind drunk on love and lust. I hold him tight in my arms while he comes down, until a wave of exhaustion sends us both reeling into a deep sleep.

********

When I wake up, light is streaming into the cave, and Flint is gone. He always wakes up first. Just once I’d like to find him dozing next to me, all lazy and mussed up. But there’s probably a better chance of hell freezing over.

I stretch the sleepiness out of my body, and sit up. There’s a pleasant ache in my legs, and a delicate sensation somewhere else, which usually follows a good night. I don’t want to dress until I’ve washed, so I walk naked down to the cove, carrying my clothes under my arm. The temperature is creeping up already, and as I walk into the waves the cold water feels glorious. I keep walking until it lifts me off my feet, and then I plunge my head under the surface, letting the salt scour me clean.

When I’m dry and dressed, my first thought is to go looking for Flint. But then I hesitate, realising that if I find him he’ll only give me some tedious job to do. I’ve no desire to get involved in all his spying and sketching, I’d rather wait until he’s done. Out here on this island I have no purpose, nothing to stow, or fix or oversee, and it feels good. My notional list of things to do goes like this, 1. Eat 2. Fuck.

So instead of hurrying back, I dawdle along the shoreline, daydreaming as I go. I thank god that Flint can’t read my mind. He’d tease me rotten if he had any idea of the fluff and nonsense my head fills up with. He told me once that he was my king, and although the idea alarmed me at first, I’ve grown to love the way he rules over me. My conscience suffers for it of course, even though I try to mitigate the worst in him. But however long I think on it, I come back to the same conclusion. In times of war, good men like me always end up on their knees before the bad. At least with Flint, being on my knees has its compensations. 

And he loves me, there’s that too. He really said those words last night without me forcing them out of him. At the memory of it, my body feels light, my mouth curls up into a smile, and I think I probably could do without eating after all. To think that I can make him love me! When I thought he was incapable of anything beyond mild fondness. It will come at a cost of course, like everything does with Flint. But I’ll pay it, and gladly, just to feel the way he made me feel last night.

I start to replay last night’s events in my head, and it distracts me to where I have to stop and lean against a palm so I don’t walk into something. My cock starts to stir and my hand slips down inside my trousers to give it some attention. There’s no one here to see me, and anyway I like to do this in the open. My eyes fall closed and my head fills up with images of Flint, while my hand flicks and strokes. I touch my mouth at the memory of his lips, and my hips start sliding forward and back. I think about him bending me over his desk and taking me roughly. I think about fucking him in Tortuga when he was so tight and I was so desperate. I think about last night, when I came in his arms and saw love in his eyes. 

“Don’t stop.”

I jump at the sound of his voice and my eyes flash open. He’s a few feet away, watching me, his gaze lingering below my waist. He said not to stop and I’m good at following orders so I get my rhythm going again, and soon a tingling heat starts to build.

“How did you know where to find me?” I ask.

“I always know where you are,” he says, matter-of-factly. It sounds sinister, and thrilling.

“I thought you were just my king, now what? You’re an all-knowing god?” 

He smirks, “your words not mine. Now pull your cock out so I can see it.”

I do, and suddenly it seems deliciously wrong to be doing this in broad daylight. Embarrassment makes my cheeks flush, but it also stiffens my erection to where it’s nearly painful. My balls are aching and my mind is starting to mist up. Flint’s eyes are fixed on me, following every stroke of my hand, up and down my length.

“I’ve been up and working since dawn. I’ve mapped and surveyed this island from shore to shore. And this is what _you_ do with your time, idly fucking your hand like a whore in heat.”

He knows I love it when he talks to me this way. My hand tugs at my cock, faster and faster. I want him to see me coming. His chest is starting to rise and fall more quickly, and the muscles around his eyes are flickering. These and other little tells give him away, show me that under the cold façade he’s as turned on as I am. 

“I’ve ruined you Billy Bones,” he says, a little breathless now, “you used to be a good sailor, and a good fighter. Now you’re only good for looking at and fucking.”

My back arches and twists, everything goes white behind my eyes. I pull my shirt buttons open with my left hand and stroke my fingers across my chest, then up to my mouth. “You made me like this. You did.”

“I did, that’s right. And you made it so easy.” His voice starts to break and I know he must be desperate to come over here, tear my shirt off and bite me. 

“You’re thinking about my cock now aren’t you” he says, “with your finger in your mouth.” 

I respond by putting two, then three fingers in, and he’s right I am thinking about his cock, how nicely it fills my mouth and how badly I want him to come all over my face, I’ve never done that, why haven’t I done that?”

“You disgraceful thing, what am I going to do with you?” From his tone, it sounds like he’s thought of a fair few.

“Anything” I say, “anything you want,” and I release the tension deep inside, let go of all the come that’s spilling out of me now. All I can feel is bliss and relief and still it’s coming out, I hope there’s a lot, I really want there to be a lot.

I’m left feeling spent and a little hazy, my legs feel too unsteady to hold me. Flint closes the gap between us and sinks to his knees to clean me up with his mouth, like I hoped he would. First my cock and then each of my fingers, and from the urgent way he licks I can tell that he’s near enough addicted to the taste of me. 

When he’s done, he tidies me away carefully, and we sit down while I wait for the fog in my brain to clear and my heartbeat to get somewhere near normal. He offers me a swig from his flask of water “I don’t suppose you had the sense to bring yours?” I shake my head no, and he smiles broadly at my helplessness. I only do it because he so enjoys proving that he’s more capable than me.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until dusk,” I say.

He looks down, and becomes engrossed in the cuffs of his shirt, which means I won’t like what’s coming next. “We won’t be here for another night,” he says, “we’ve been away too long already, it’s past time we got back to the crew.” He’s trying to sound brisk, but his face is sorry.

I don’t need to ask why, of course. His mind can’t keep off the gold for long, and I’m quite surprised that he let this trip last as long as he did. It makes me heartsick though, because I can’t shake off the notion that we’ve achieved a kind of perfect state here, one that can’t survive anywhere else. We’re so close now that it might even be possible to speak plainly about the future. If not now, then when?

“Is this where you plan on bringing the gold?” I say, although I already know.

“Well I can hardly take it to the Bank of England,” he says, smiling.

He’s trying to make light of this, but I’m not in the mood to joke, not now. “So you’ll bring the gold here, hide it somewhere, and then what?”

“You know what. We’ve talked about what it could do for Nassau, for all of us.”

I hold his hand tighter, so he knows that what I say next comes from love. “I’m scared Captain. I’m scared of what you’ll become if you do get it.”

He frowns with incomprehension, “how on earth could it change me? I don’t want it for itself, I’ve no interest in wealth.” 

“No” I sigh, “you have a higher purpose, I know. But gold has its own purpose, and it’ll twist you round to its way of thinking eventually, no matter what good intentions you have. It’s already working on you, and you’re only pursuing it.”

He looks hurt, “do you suspect me of greed now?”

“No,” I say quickly, “nothing so simple.” I know what I’m trying to say, but with Flint’s hard eyes on me I’m fumbling for the right words. “I wish you were greedy,” I say finally, “if all you wanted was wealth I could probably talk you out of it. And then we could stay here by ourselves, and tell the crew and Nassau to go fuck themselves.”

He laughs bitterly, although he doesn’t try to quiet me.

“But it’s not greed with you is it? You only want to rule the new world, make the crew into princes, and right every wrong ever done on earth in the process.” Speaking Flint’s ambitions out loud makes them sound even madder than they do in my head. I try appealing to his ego. “Only an exceptional man would have such vast ambitions. And if an exceptional man gets his hands on a huge heap of gold, he’s going to fall into hell harder and faster than any normal man would.”

He’s silent a long while then, but his eyes are constantly moving and his mouth is twitching. These are the only outward signs of the emotion that I know is coursing through him. 

Eventually he says, “and if I can’t turn back from this course, if it’s beyond me to do that… how will things sit with you and I?”

He doesn’t want to look up at me, so I kiss his forehead instead and I can almost taste his relief. How could he even imagine that I’d leave him? I kiss and kiss and kiss until the right words come to me. “I’ll follow you into hell, if I must. But please try not to get there too soon.”


End file.
